


Breathe In, Hold, and Exhale

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Hospital Setting, L E T H I M O U T, Medical equipment, Post Traumatic Stress, Weight Issues, clueless but wellmeaning friend, discussion of abuse, inpatient psychological support
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 16:13:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7899418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is called in to help support the medical recovery of the group's pariah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe In, Hold, and Exhale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HaroThar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaroThar/gifts).



“John I have a really huge favor to ask.”  
   
Watching a fish splash out of the water below him, John turned his face toward the sun and enjoyed the living air rushing around him.    
   
“Remember the troll Gamzee? He’s in the hospital and I need help with the healing on him.”    
   
Thinking back to the hellscape of the game John could only pull up flashes of recollection about the troll. The kid had been tall with a birdsnest of hair and spiraling horns that looked like lances. Shit had gone wrong with him quickly and then other things had occupied his attention. Most of what he knew of the dude came to him secondhand or after the fact.    
   
“I know it’s a lot, but I would really appreciate your help. Tavros is out of town otherwise I would ask him.”    
   
Floating in the air with his earpiece set to buffer out noise, John considered Jane’s request. The day outside was eye-wateringly wonderful. The sun shimmered resplendent in the sky, the blue of the horizon mixed in with a subtle green cast as it went toward the horizon. If he said no he could stay out in the fresh air, watch the goings on beneath him and not have to deal with what Jane was asking of him. She was working one of her obligate shifts at the hospital. She and Feferi swapped rotations at the state of the art building for those that traditional medicine failed. Neither of them were particularly called to the medical profession, though Feferi seemed to enjoy it more than Jane.  

  
On occasion he was called in as well to consult on respiratory issues that were stubborn or resistant to treatment. What Jane was asking him for gave him pause not because of the issue, but because of the patient. “Are you sure this isn’t something you can fix? Gamzee kind of weirds me out.”    
   
“Just come in you big baby. He’s got psi-blockers on and he’s mostly laid out in the intensive care ward. He’s not going to do any weird clown bullshit to you.”    
   
“Says the girl who did not have to deal with weird clown bullshit in their formative years.” John ground his teeth together, watching the birds around him pass in a burst of wings and chatter. If he was fair, Jane had dealt with that specific clown’s bullshit in person and he ought not be complaining.  
   
“Please? I’ll owe you one.” She did sound beat. It was hard to deny his ecto-nana anything.    
   
“You have no idea what kind of a favor that you put yourself on the line for just now. Yeah. I’ll come in. Gimme fifteen.” The edge of his hoodie flapped against his cheek and he nudged it back down against his neck to keep it from making further noise.    
   
“John, where are you right now? There’s been weird background noise this entire conversation.”    
   
Laughing to himself, he snapped a picture with his CrockerTech enhanced glasses. “I’m out surveying near the reservoir. Tavros and I were working on tracking flocks of goldfinches and while I was here I stopped in for Jade to see how the dam was holding. Roxy and she have a plan for fluffing up the hydro-electric capabilities of this site.”    
   
On Jane’s side of the conversation something pinged, indicating that his picture had made its way over. “Our world sure is good huh?” Jane’s voice was soft with pleasure.    
   
“I like to think so. See you soon.” Cutting the call John headed toward the hospital.      
   
Even though Piexes Memorial hospital had a wide and beautiful campus, John hated being there. Winter of at the age of five he developed a wicked case of bronchitis that eventually developed into pneumonia. The misery of being slightly-too-cold and unable to take a full breath without hacking had stayed linked with the sterile smell of hospitals. Jane met him outside and fell into step with him.    
   
“We found the refrigerator that he had been locked in before we got out of the game and fought the Batterwitch. To be frank, I was expecting to find a corpse and a particularly liquid one at that.” Jane shrugged, face scrunched up in vague discomfort at the thought. “I suppose it solves the question of whether or not he god-tiered.”    
   
“Absolutely no one else could come?” John shoved his hands in his pockets.    
   
“No one else answered my calls. I left messages.” That told him everything that he needed to know about that. Rounding the corner he caught an eyeful of the long stretch of troll curled on a hospital bed.  
   
Gamzee’s breathing was a stuttering wheeze. An oxygen mask was looped over his nose and mouth, the elastic band cutting a swath through the riot of his unruly hair. The troll faced away from the doorway, propped up with pillows and staring at the wall of his room. His gown dipped in the back, showing off a brutal topography of scar tissue.  
   
Walking to the side of the bed that Gamzee was facing, John waved hello awkwardly. “Hey. They called me in to consult for you. Jane’s working on getting your lungs to do their thing, but in the meantime I’ll help you breathe a little better. Is it cool if I put a hand on your chest?”

  
In the past, making physical contact had helped him to determine if anything was wrong. This situation felt like a gamble -- Gamzee was one of the trolls that had mental powers. Touch was likely to strengthen anything that he tried. Looking at the guy though, John had doubts that he was up to doing anything more strenuous than laying there. Jane had mentioned that he had limiters of some sort on him. A cursory survey showed there were dull metal bands slipped into place over the beds of his horns, mostly hidden by his curls. Gamzee watched him from under stress-furrowed brows. The machines assisting him beeped, the mask whooshed as it provided extra air. Finally, he inclined his head in the barest nod that John had ever seen.    
   
“Cool.” Putting on a glove he rested a hand over Gamzee’s disturbing sternum. The gown was loose enough that it hung down his neck and exposed his chest. He was vaguely nauseated by the tactile presence of the troll’s ribs jutting off of the cartilage structure. Under his fingers everything felt wrong. The somatic sense that he was swallowing glass with every inhalation overrode his thoughts. Jerking his hand free of Gamzee he stared at Jane. “What happened?”    
   
“There is evidence of pulmonary fibrosis in his lungs. I’m not sure what from. What we do know is that he’s not responding well to my powers which is really weird.”  
   
Flipping through a chart, Jane arched her brows over her glasses at him. “I wish that I had more training to back up what I’m seeing, but a lot of this is touch and feel. I’m doing the classes, but they only cover so much. It was rather helpful of the game to offer comparative physiology feeds for us.”    
   
“If your powers aren’t going to work I don’t know that mine will either.” Jane had actually been training to become a doctor, having relegated her fascination for sleuthing to a part time endeavor.    
   
Gamzee coughed in a way that sounded like he might expel his organs through his mouth, the effort leaving him gasping to draw in any air at all. It was the sound of suffering. Reaching over John put order to what he could.

  
Gamzee’s shallow, quick gasps were replaced with progressively slower inhalations. Smoothing his hand over to Gamzee’s back to rest between the dip of his shoulders John took a seat on the edge of the bed. The muscles under his fingers slowly relaxed, the tension dispensing as the troll’s breathing eased.  “This is really weird.”    
   
Jane stood to one side, looking at the monitors in consternation. “You’re telling me! Well. I guess for now I would appreciate it if you would sit with him until I can get some more work in. When you have to go, shoot me a text.”    
   
Gamzee tracked her movements from with his face half-hidden by his hair, the plastic of his face-mask fogged up and flecked with spit. Once she was gone he reached up with a hand vibrating with tremors and readjusted it. Laying his hand near his throat, the troll let his eyes drop back to half-mast once more. The effort appeared to have been exhausting.    
   
Glancing down at the clown, John shrugged. If they were going to spend time together, he would make the best of the situation. “Guess I’ll be your nurse for this afternoon. I will not be donning adorable scrubs. So, sorry for that.”    
   
Gamzee pulled himself into a loose curl, not paying John any mind.  John pulled out his phone and started reading through entertainment articles. Far be it for him to intrude on someone else’s grumpy time. A few different tests proved that as long as some point of contact was maintained, John’s effect on Gamzee’s ability to breathe remained. They compromised by having John sitting on the bed with Gamzee, with Gamzee curled up facing the wall with a pillow bunched into his arms and his back pressed up along the line of John’s thigh.  
   
*  
   
Running out of things to do internet sucked. Resting his head against the wall of the hospital room, John stared down at his troll responsibility. Up close all of the scars on his back looked circular. Either gunshot wounds or pike-stabs. Perhaps cigarette burns, though they seemed large for something like that. Layered over his shoulders and the visible sections of his arms were other scars further along in the healing process. It was a strange thing to see, given that the game healed all wounds for godtier players.    
   
He had no marks left over from all of the imp shenanigans he had undertaken or from the end-stage fight with the Condescension. There were nights that he woke up sweating and winded, reaching for parts on his body that had been broken. Smooth brown skin stared back at him. Parts of him wished that his skin matched his nightmares. That was neither here nor there. The group on the lotus pad had made it out. They were okay and they were here. Despite the epic ton of fuckery he had made it through time and space with Roxy and now they were in a new world with their friends.    
   
Then there was this guy. Gamzee was a mess of bones and scars and not a whole lot else. The guy had been a weird creeper from the get-go, so John did not feel particularly bad for him. Abstractly it kind of sucked that no one would talk to him anymore and that he had been forgotten in a fridge. Maybe that would not have happened if he had not decided to freak the hell out and act like a psycho-killer and slaughter half of his team. Troll-rage or whatever aside, it seemed like bad form. Not only that, but he had made Karkat really fucking sad. Karkat was his best hate-friend and troll friendleader. Anyone that made him feel sad got a hammer to the head.    
   
The urge to ignore all of this and leave the room was really strong. However he would not sentence anyone to a death by slow asphyxiation. Even shitty clowns.  
   
Gamzee rolled over, drawing his long legs up toward his chest and curling more securely around the pillow. When his eyes opened, his pupils widened from little slashes to vibrantly dark and wide ovals. It was sort of cool to see up close. John arched a brow. “Did you get some sleep dude?”    
   
Gamzee’s lids slid down like curtains over windows. He watched John through his lashes.    
   
“Are you mute now too? Like the Carlos dude?”    
   
“T’ch.” Rolling his eyes, the troll made to roll back over to face the wall once more.    
   
“Look. You don’t have to be such an asshole. We’re both stuck here together so we might as well shoot the breeze a little. Otherwise I can go ahead and leave and you can wheeze with your scar-tissue riddled lungs. That is what pulmonary fibrosis means in case the human medical jargon didn’t really make sense. The fuck happened to you anyway? I don’t remember Roxy ever shooting at you before. Did Jade light you up?”  

  
The list of those who had riflekind as strife specibus was a little fuzzy in his mind. Most of the Midnight Crew wielded guns of one sort or another but they would not have been shooting at a teammate.    
   
“If you don’t want to be here, you got functioning walkstubs. Head on out.” The way that Gamzee spoke reminded him of angry kittens. All puffed up and furious and too tiny to actually affect damage. Maybe without the face-mask there could have been more tension behind his statement. As it was, it just came out flat and petulant.    
   
“It offends me personally to see people breathing poorly. I learned that about myself. The second something I learned just today is that I apparently have a higher tolerance for clown bullshit when it has to do with respiration.”  
Clapping his hands together in mock joy, John looked down at the glaring patient sharing the bed with him. “I’m heading out soon enough. Stick with me for now. For serious though, what happened to you?”    
   
Gamzee laughed, eyes too-wide and a fine tremor in his hands. For a second the paroxysm of laughter looked more like terror than it did amusement. The weird moment passed when he broke back into choking. “Are you some sort of pale-courtesan to ask me such?”  
   
Gamzee’s voice was ragged when it came out at all. The first attempt at the question came out as a squeak and an insectoid rattle. “Knew that humans are whores for the pale, but you and I have nothing to bridge us. I ain’t got nothing to pay you with. Spend your time elsewhere.” Flicking his claws idly, the troll stared at him as if John could be shooed away with enough force.    
   
“Fine, we won’t talk about what happened to you. Geez.” John huffed. The minute one tried to be nice to trolls they got all weird about it. “Jane’ll yell at me if I just head out. I’ve got to wait until she checks back in. Then I’m out of your hair.”    
   
Gamzee hummed assent and turned his face back into the pillow. The silence stretched awkwardly until Jane returned to them twenty minutes later.  
   
*    
   
“I think that you are being deliberately stubborn at this point.” John walked into the room that Jane’s patient had been moved to. Some of the rooms were designed to cater to the nocturnal species that shared their new world. The quality of the light was different and the windows were tinted to reduce the Suns glare.  
   
Gamzee had been relocated into one such ward. The troll lay settled into a couch-like bed that replicated the texture of the piles that John had seen some of the other trolls sleep in. Not much had improved from the last time that he had seen him. The oxygen-mask was still in place and the wheezing had not audibly diminished. New to the mix of problems was a tube that disappeared into Gamzee’s nose and presumably proceeded down into his throat. A bag of chalky, thick fluid hung near the bed and dripped steadily along the line.    
   
“Why are you trying to starve to death?” After everything they had survived, John found his behavior exasperating. Jane had confided that Gamzee did very little at all. When breathing permitted, he slept. Otherwise he lay prone and did not move other than to relieve himself.    
   
The clown growled at him, the sound distorted from the extra medical equipment. “The fuck -” His words were distorted by the mask. “-are you doing back in my block?”    
   
“Still working with Jane on getting you functioning lungs so that you can go forth and do whatever it is that you want to do with yourself. We’re in a whole new world dude. You get to seize possibility and all of that.” Lingering in the doorway John considered his options.    
   
“Would you like me to sit with you or no?”    
   
Gamzee drummed his claws against the padding beneath him. The sclera of his eyes fluxed yellow to orange and then yellow once again. John found himself wondering if that happened with all trolls or just the colder-blooded ones. Aliens were weird.    
   
“Could. Get your sit on for a while.”    
   
Invited and welcome he settled at a comfortable distance, resting a hand on Gamzee’s arm and focusing his intent on righting the terrible knot inside of him. The air inside of the guy knew where it wanted to go, it just was blocked. All John had to do was nudge. At least that was how he visualized it. It felt a little like LOWAS and the clouds And flames and smoke he had cleared away with his organ.    
   
Gamzee’s murmur brought his attention that he had been tapping his fingers on the troll’s arm like playing piano. “Sorry. I was thinking about the wind.”    
   
Gamzee shrugged -- jerking his shoulders up in an abrupt gesture. “Think on what you wish.” The breath he took subsequently was measured and easy. Dropping his head back into the pile the troll rested his spindly fingers along John’s forearm, doubling the points of contact.    
   
John looked sideways at him. “Have you talked to the counselors here?”    
   
“Some.” Surprised at both the affirmative and that Gamzee was willing to speak at all, John continued his line of questioning.  
   
“Even with that you still feel really bad?”    
   
Anyone with functioning eyes could see that the troll was not well. Asshole or not, the dude was a broken down husk. It was hard to stay angry at him. If he were hale and flippant and making meandering analogies John thought he might feel differently about it. Dave and Rose had spoken to him about depression and what living with it was like. The symptoms that they had described looked awfully like what was happening here. Counseling was supposed to help, but maybe it was hard for the counselors to find context to understand what it was that Gamzee had to say.    
   
The troll buzzed softly, a strange noise that John had not heard yet. “Yes. Yes motherfucker I do. I feel really bad.” A soft smile played over Gamzee’s lips as if the statement tickled him.    
   
“Well. You should keep talking to them about things. Maybe they can help you feel less bad. That is the whole idea.”    
   
The jerk rolled his eyes and John answered with an eyeroll of his own. “I’m serious! Talking to someone that has no stake in your life and who wasn’t affected by the shit that went down might help.”    
   
Gamzee’s lip trembled, halfway caught between a snarl and a smile. “They keep asking me how I feel. What happened. Brother, I don’t know. There are swathes of time that are a black fucking hole in my pan. “    
   
John blinked. “What do you mean?”    
   
“I mean ninja, I can’t remember jack shit after staring into the face of a false fucking friend and idol. Snatches and bits yes. Time all jumbled in such a way as to be dreamlike. Remember feeling like God.” Gamzee paused, staring into a middle distance with his hands curled into an impotent set of fists. The points of his claws dug into his palms, causing rivulets of indigo blood to trace down his wrists.  
   
Turning and staring through his curls at John, the troll hissed. “I don’t know how I feel. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who I am. I just want it to **stop**. If I get my talk on will you guarantee me that?”    
   
Abruptly John was further out of his depth than he could have planned for. The dude sitting across from him seemed like he was ready to peel the skin off of his face for relief. All of the murder and all of the crap with Caliborn sat like a weight on the twinge of sympathy that had blossomed in him. Gamzee had seemed to be fully engaged in all of those proceedings. Thinking back though, John had never heard him speak. Gamzee at the moment was nothing like the wraith that had moved through timelines and fucked shit up right and left.    
   
“Can’t guarantee anything, Gamzee.” John offered him a smile. “But maybe give it a try. It can’t be any worse than it is now, right?”    
   
The troll curled his fingers around John’s arm and focused on his breathing, closing his eyes and retreating inside of himself.    
*  
Poking at her quinoa salad, Jade arched a brow at John. “How’s clown-sitting going?”    
   
Scrubbing his face and groaning, John answered. “Awful. I have no idea what I’m doing, I don’t know how this happened and I want it to stop. Trolls are weird.”    
   
Jade grinned back at him. “Well duh silly. They’re aliens! If it’s too much you can just let Jane handle it. She can keep him in check.”    
   
Staring fruitlessly into his caesar salad and trying to find answers in the romaine he grumbled. “He doesn’t need to be handled is the thing. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t really talk. I finally got more than three words out of him and it was super heavy stuff that I have no clue what to do with.”    
   
Watching him over the rim of her glasses, Jade waited for him to go on. Spreading his hands wide in exasperation he stabbed a crouton. “There are counselors at the hospital. He said he talked with them a bit, but I don’t think they’re really helping. It’s been like a month and he’s only put on enough weight to get off of the feeding tube as of last week.”    
   
Jade frowned. “Pause the story. I’m missing information. Why was he on a feeding tube?”    
   
“Because he doesn’t get up and move. Like. At all. He just sort of lays still. Doesn’t eat unless someone specifically tells him to and puts food in front of him. Sleeps like, ninety percent of the day and night. I’ve visited during both times. Doesn’t do anything unless someone specifically tells him to and aims him at what he’s supposed to be doing.”    
   
“And the doctors don’t know why?”  
“Nope.” Chasing some cheese under a fortress of lettuce with his fork, John glanced at her. “I don’t really want to ask...”    
   
Making a blocking gesture with her hands, Jade shook her head. “I’m not asking Karkat. It’s unfortunate that he’s that sick-but I’m not going to do that. You shouldn’t ask Terezi either.”    
   
“I’m not that much of a putz! Kanaya hates him too so I don’t know what to do.”    
   
Tapping a fork against her bottom lip, Jade worked through the options. “I don’t suppose that some of the therapists that he’s working with are trolls?”    
   
“They are -- but they’re not old school. I don’t think they really know what to make of Gamzee.”    
   
Resting the piece of flatware on her plate, Jade sighed.“I know that you’ll think of something. This might be a question to ask Rose.”    
   
John resisted the urge to put his face into his salad out of pure frustration.    
   
*    
   
“I think that you are a fool for attempting any of this. A noble one, mind. But a fool.” Rose smiled gently from the chair that she was curled into. A partially-worked afghan stretched out over her lap and dribbled in folds down to the floor.    
   
“I still don’t know what it is that I think I’m doing here? But I’m doing it.” John held the cup of darjeeling in his hands, rolling it back and forth to distribute the warmth of the ceramic.    
   
“Explain to me what is happening?”    
   
“I stole the charts from the hospital.”    
   
Rose waggled her eyebrows. “How exceedingly unethical of you John. I approve.” Spending some minutes thumbing through the pages, Rose set the stack in her lap. “Much like the rest of us he seems to have a very severe case of PTSD. I think that is expected. His clinical team notes that he has trouble taking independent action. I do not find that so strange -- he was a servant to Lord English. He would not have been encouraged to think and act of his own volition.”    
   
That piece clicked into place in John’s head. “So are you saying he’s waiting for someone to boss him around?”    
   
Brushing a forefinger along the edge of the sheaf of papers in her stack Rose considered his question. “I wouldn’t put it like that. I think he is simply unaccustomed to acting for himself any longer. He was under mind-control for a long period during the game.”    
   
John’s stomach did a little flip. “What do you mean? Like the Caliborn was doing that?”    
   
Rose shook her head. “Aranea Serket. She directed a great deal of the things that happened with Gamzee. That and paradox reacharound issues that arose from Cal. Between those two factors I am unsure how much of Gamzee’s actions were his own and how many were compelled.” The tone of her voice conjured images of superstitious grandmothers throwing salt over their shoulders.    
   
That put things in a very different light. “Who knows?”  
   
Rose brushed her fingers along the report. “Me. Terezi I think. It was not something we spoke of. She’s a seer of mind - if she had thought to look she would have seen it.”    
   
John felt empty. “Why haven’t you told anyone else?”    
   
Rose glanced up at him, grim. “Would it change what he did?”  He did not have an answer for her and could not come up with one no matter how he thought on it. Leaving her apartment he headed back to the hospital instead of to his studio.    
   
*    
Gamzee was sitting up when he came in, slowly sipping a smoothie. “Sup?”    
   
“Nothing. Just had some time to kill so I thought I would come and chill with you.”    
   
Gamzee scooted incrementally to the side of his nest, offering a place for John to settle into. Taking the proffered section of cushion, John flopped down. The gravity of his conversation with Rose pressed on him.    
   
Did it change what Gamzee had done? Or the others would feel about him? Murder was murder. Equius and Nepeta were gone. He and Karkat had some sort of bad history, no one had ever filled him in on the details but he understood that much. Seeing Terezi before he went on his retcon adventure had been enough. The potential for gross violence existed within Gamzee.    
   
The wreckage of Rose’s planet argued that it existed within them all.    
   
Gamzee wound a thin arm around his waist, adjusting into a more comfortable sprawl. John glanced down at it. That was new. Instead of making a fuss he went for the more obvious conversation.    
   
“Noticed they took the tube out of your nose.”    
   
“Bout fucking time.” Finishing the smoothie Gamzee set the empty cup to one side. “Hated that shit. They got me on a schedule now - know what’s what.”

  
Closing his eyes, John felt out the currents of air inside of his companion. “Sounds like you are breathing better too.”    
   
The troll nodded absently. “Janesis has been working magic on my insides.” Taking a gulping breath, he let a cautious smile flit across his face. “Breathe best when you are here. But I suppose that is the form and the function of you.”

  
John bumped his shoulder hard into Gamzee and was vaguely surprised when the troll did not shift an inch. The dude was a lot denser than he at first appeared. Peeking at him edgewise, Gamzee honked softly, flipping his horns in a play gesture.

  
The limiters caught the light and John felt one of the terrible ideas that he often had take a firm hold in his head. “Hang on a sec.”

   
Gamzee watched the progression of John’s hand toward his head with no reluctance. When John’s fingers brushed the keratin of his horns, he stared at him in mild horror. “Nah. Don’t be touching at those.”    
   
"Why?" Obediently, John took his hands back. "I would think that they are suffocating."  
   
Looking along the line of his shoulder at John, Gamzee shrugged. "And you are some flavor of alien psychic to be knowing how my pan feels?"    
   
Ugh, this guy was so argumentative. It was always passively voiced, but John could hear it in his word-choice. "No. But I could imagine that it isn't comfortable."    
   
"It ain't."    
   
"Then why leave them on?"    
   
Gamzee stared him down. "Cuz the folk that put them on me ain't seen fit to remove them. And brother, thus far they've had good sense. Ain't been moved to violence yet."    
   
"Your choice dude." John pulled out his phone, flipping through the new iteration of reddit.    
   
As it often did, silence stretched between them. Gamzee's arm remained loose around his waist and the troll laid back to rest, eyes closed and breathing measured. John could hear specific moments of inhaling and exhaling and it reminded him of something his dad had taught him as a child. There had been moments when he was so angry that he could not breathe and the soft tenor of his father's voice still was clear. "In. Hold for a count of ten. Out slowly. In. Ten. Slowly."    
   
At his side, Gamzee's mouth curled into a subtle smile. "You got it wrong brother. Hold for fifteen." Coughing lightly to clear his throat, the troll fell back into silence.    
   
"Did the psych staff teach you that? My dad taught me."    
   
"Mmmm-hm. Wicked fine folk they are. Gentle-tempered so I worry as to speak harsh at them. They don't seem to mind it much."    
   
Once again Gamzee broke his mental picture and acted in a way that completely contradicted what John had seen before. The troll that was willing to savagely beat an ex-lover was not the sort of man that worried about the feelings of strangers. Maybe he was, maybe that was Alternian. John could not actually wrap his mind around the thought that such a dichotomy of emotion could exist in one person. He understood the guarded bluster of Karkat, Terezi's heroic fatalism, Kanaya's subtle playfulness. None of them were anything like Gamzee.    
   
"Thank...you."    
   
John stared at Gamzee. "For what?"    
   
"Being...fucking present." Gamzee lightly patted his hip. "For helping me breathe. 's another thing white coats got on me to be up and saying. To be grateful." The undercurrent of anger in that tone caught John's attention but he could not decipher the source.    
   
"Nothing you should have to say thank you for." Making a decision that felt very strongly like choosing a side to a war he wanted no part in, John rested his arms over Gamzee's. The clown honked softly.    
   
*    
   
“You know we kissed once?”    
   
“I have no recollection of any such happening.”    
   
John beamed across the small stretch of mattress at Gamzee, amused at the memory while feeling vaguely disturbed by it.    
   
“You had a matching Zillyhoo in your strife deck for some reason. You handed it over and we smooched mid-air. We never talked about it, I don’t exactly know why it happened and then you were gone again. I am totally calling time-space shenanigans and it was kind of awkward. If I was going to go for the dude kiss at that point in my life, I’m sorry but you were not on the top of my list.”    
   
Gamzee’s face screwed up in consternation. “Think you are telling a wicked falsehood to me. Ain’t got anything like red leanings toward your alienself. Do not make it a habit of wandering round and laying my wordflap on that of others wantonlike.”    
   
John snorted. “More like no one wants to put their mouth on yours either.”  The bird that Gamzee flipped him was all the more impressive for the spider-like qualities of his fingers and the length of his claws. It was like the guy had never been introduced to a nail file in his life. John rolled his eyes at the gesture and curled sideways, reflecting on what it was that had brought them to this point.     
   
“How did you get Zillyhoo in your strife deck anyway?”    
   
Gamzee’s eyes slit into playful crescents. “Miracles.” The irony present in his tone caused John to be slightly less vocal about groaning.    
   
"Don't know anything about those, but it totally happened and it was weird."  
   
John vaguely remembered singing. Gamzee's lips had been chapped.    
   
"Specibus was jokerkind. Anything could get my claws on and fronds wrapped around could wield."    
   
The sheer variety of weapons in the game was mind-boggling. John shook his head. "Was your modus like that before the game?"    
   
"Mm. Did not have a use to it as such for violence. Mostly watched on it to see what it might produce." Gamzee stretched his neck and it popped audibly. The divots in his cheeks and body had slowly filled out with regular meals. "Was not so much present in the moment that I could get a conception of what ought to go on with it."    
   
John vaguely remembered allusions to Gamzee's drug use. Whatever that was had been replaced with an anti-psychotic. It had taken a month or so to find a dose that agreed with the troll, and another couple of weeks of supportive counseling to help him develop the routine of taking them. Now he seemed to be thriving - his eyes were clear, showering was a thing that happened regularly, and he seemed more inclined to interact with his surroundings.    
   
Doctor Malhorta had pulled him aside earlier in the week to discuss treatment plans. Now that the imminent medical concerns were out of the way, they would transfer Gamzee to an inpatient psych facility. She had concerns regarding the rage that he never addressed and a variety of other points. His psych team understood that there was a great deal he would not and could not discuss; but they also had doubts about him being on his own. John could not argue with any of that, he shared their worries.   "Are you excited to get out of the hospital?"    
   
Gamzee shrugged with one shoulder. "Gonna miss seeing Janesis. And your self."    
   
John shook his head. "Nah. You won't. I'll still come and see you at your new digs."    
   
The expression on the troll's face communicated that he clearly did not believe it. Still, he smiled. "Cool."     
   
"Really! I checked out the place you're moving over to. It's really chill there. The troll side of things is really big and comfortable. Low-lights like in here and there's a moon-garden that you can go and walk at night if you want. I talked to the staff and they would be fine with you cooking as long as you've got an orderly with you."    
   
Gamzee cautiously raised his brows. "Yeah?"    
   
"You got it buddy." They said it was fine if I hung out with you pretty much whenever. If I'm there at off-hours we just need to be quiet. I don't think that should be much of a problem."    
   
The smile that John was learning to appreciate stretched across the troll's mouth. "Wicked."    


End file.
